


First Time for Everything

by vol_ctrl



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor and Valentino Team Up, Anal Fingering, Aromantic, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality Spectrum, Banter, Blow Jobs, Bottom Alastor, Bottom Vox, Cooking, Dinner, Established Relationship, Flirting, Food Porn, Hand Jobs, Jealous Vox, M/M, The Radio Demon Fucks, There's a lot of moving parts, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Vox Talks Like Max Headroom, Vox is in Danger, but not sex-repulsed, first time threesome, references to cannibalism, top valentino, top vox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl/pseuds/vol_ctrl
Summary: The first time Alastor invites Valentino over for dinner. The first time Vox crashes a date between his two beaus. And, the first time the three of them find some accord between all of their desires.Written by request for Kyng.
Relationships: Alastor & Valentino, Alastor & Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino & Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 266





	1. First Course

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XIntensity_FallsX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XIntensity_FallsX/gifts).



> This was just supposed to be some debaucherous Vox/Val/Al smut as per Kyng's request, but you know me...
> 
> I mean, really, there should be some more FOOD PORN of Alastor's cooking, right?
> 
> With a explicit porn as a second course. It's only right.
> 
> Huge thanks to [@NightExcision](https://twitter.com/NightExcision)/[RavagedRadio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavagedRadio/pseuds/General%20Jambalaya) for his magnificent portrayal of Valentino that inspired my writing, and for helping beta & edit! If you like my portrayal of Valentino, you're gonna LOVE his even more.

_[ wyd ? ]_

Valentino lifted his chin and tilted his slitted pink gaze toward the watchful digital lens eye peering at him from the street corner. Vox never bothered to make his surveillance subtle. He narrowed his eyes and returned to look at his phone.

_[ what does it look like ]_

_[ Looks like laundry day. ]_

Valentino snorted and let his thumb glide smoothly over his screen.

_[ dinner invitation. ]_

_[ Business? ]_

_[ pleasure 💞 ]_

_[ Without me? 💔 ]_

_[ did you get an invitation ]_

_[ No? ]_

Valentino pocketed his phone with a smirk as his car pulled up to the curb. The scissor door of the unmistakable glittering [fuschia Cadillac](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/529665606146493532/) opened upward and the pimp folded himself with surprising grace into the back seat. It was his about-town car--no need for the stretch Lambo when he was only crossing a few territories, and without company.

“Where to, boss?” asked a gruff voice from the front where a female demon splayed attractively in cut-off shorts in the driver seat, oozing the sort of confidence outlined in the job description for Valentino’s personal driver of his most favorite ride.

“Address is in your GPS, baby,” Valentino replied as he settled into the plush leather interior, crossing his boots on the shag carpet. It was no stretch Lambo, but certain adjustments had been made to accommodate his lengthy frame.

“S’a ways outta your usual stompin’ grounds, boss,” the driver commented as she tapped at the GPS location. “Scopin’ out some new territory?”

“Nah. Run-down neighborhood like that?” Valentino chuckled. “Don’t you worry about it, baby.”

He caught his driver peering at him as she readjusted the rearview mirror, a lift of a shapely brow over one of her many eyes at the sight of his attire in conjunction with the strange destination. She smirked, but only revved the engine. “You got it, boss.”

Valentino had traded his usual ankle-length coat--and the accompanying anyone’s-guess accoutrement underneath--for a shorter, but no less fluffy, affair. His sleek silhouette was instead dressed in a low-slung double breasted blazer and trousers of matching, surprisingly tasteful, zebra-print in shades of blood-red, sunset-scarlet, and black. The shorter fur coat dusted striking white against the scarlet with the impression of smoky zebra stripes down the lapels. It was a rare look for the pimp--but he had a rare date to attend.

By the time he arrived at his destination, the eternal midnight-sun had darkened to its evening hue. Unlike the neon-lit downtown districts Valentino usually frequented, this street was lit by gas lamps, giving the already-derelict neighborhood the eerie atmosphere of a place haunted.

It was far from abandoned. ‘Derelict’ as the houses might appear, they were maintained. Merely to a standard and style that Valentino would call ‘quaint’ at best. He thanked his driver and moved toward the door, only to find it opened for him.

“What’re you doing at Az-Ax-Alastor’s place?” Vox demanded, leaning on the raised door.

Valentino gave him a narrow-eyed look, hardly surprised to find Vox awaiting him. “Just couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“Wouldn’t you find it a little _sx-sz-suspicious_ if your two favorite trz-trx-troublemakers were meeting without you?” Vox asked with a razor-sharp smirk.

“Careful, Vox,” Valentino warned him as he poured himself out of the Cadillac right up against Vox, and then some, given his height, to loom over him, brushing black claws under the bottom of Vox’s screen. “Your jealousy is showing.”

Vox straightened to his full height against Valentino, though it still left him wanting for a few inches.

“Alastor invited me over for dinner,” Valentino told him as his fingers traced down Vox’s neck to his bowtie.

“Without me?” Vox asked, masking the hurt in his voice with a brash buzz.

Valentino’s smile only widened and he chuckled as he used his lower hand to press Vox back, long legs insisting he move.

Vox stood his ground, but allowed a couple steps backward, stiff and stubborn.

Before Vox’s whining tirade could really wind up, the door of the modest manor creaked open ominously. Valentino and Vox both turned their heads at the blood-chilling sound.

Red eyes were carried by shadows through the threshold. With an air-splitting snap, cheery gas lamps lit the front porch and cast the radio demon in sharp relief. He wore a welcoming smile and an apron, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal the creep of black from his hands up his scarred arms.

“That vehicle of yours makes quite the roar, Valentino!” As if to punctuate his point, the engine revved. As the scissor-door lowered closed, the bass boosted from the interior so loud the very side mirrors vibrated. Alastor’s smile took on a forced quality and he adjusted his monocle as the noisy pimpmobile tore away from the curb and down the street.

Alastor wiped his hands on his apron as he descended the front stairs.

“You owe me five bucks, Alastor,” Valentino said with a grin.

Alastor chuckled and waved his hand. The low iron gate that bordered his property swung open with a cry. “Only if he insists upon inviting himself,” Alastor corrected.

Vox looked at Alastor with a moment of bewilderment, then scowled up at Valentino. “You bz-bx-bet on it?” he demanded.

“It was Alastor’s idea,” Valentino insisted with very unconvincing innocence.

“Now, now, it matters not who proposed a friendly little bet on whether you could _restrain_ yourself, darling,” Alastor placated with that bastard-sweet smile.

“You didn’t invite me on pz-px-purpose!” Vox accused them, the hurt creeping into his voice again.

“Only because I knew you would come anyway,” Alastor said with dark certainty.

The media overlord wore a pout with a modicum of dignity.

“Besides... I wasn’t sure you would enjoy dinner.” There was a thread of gentleness there, a lift of a curious brow.

Valentino slid a hand over Vox’s shoulder, brushed past the cables hidden along the back of his neck, under his collar.

Vox’s screen flickered, first to a look of faint surprise, then adjusted to a more characteristic grin. “I sx-sz-suppose you thought that was cx-cz-considerate of you?” he said with a sharp smirk.

“Well, yes.” Alastor blinked patiently. Vox didn’t often touch on the subject of his inability to eat or drink. In fact, he would go so far as to accept a drink, if only to hold it, for he could not drink it through his screen. It was something Alastor had picked up upon, particularly as they spent more and more time together. A strange habit, but one Alastor could glean the intention of without even asking Vox about it. He enjoyed the _aesthetic_ of the finer things in life even if their enjoyment had been robbed from him.

Vox shot his smirk up at Valentino. “Both of you knz-knx-know better.” He stepped away from the tall pimp and straightened his tie, adjusted his blazer with a stately tug. “I enjoy living vicariously.”

Alastor smiled and pushed the gate further open in invitation. “Dinner for two, and one voyeur.” Vox led the way past the gate, giving Alastor’s apron a little tug as he went. Valentino followed behind, looming a leering grin at him.

“Yes, yes, you’ll have your five dollars,” Alastor assured him with a smirk in return, slowly closing the iron gate behind them.

Vox strode into Alastor’s abode purposefully, as if to mark his territory by his familiarity with the place. Within a few steps, though, he slowed as a faint feeling of disorientation settled in his system.

“Did you, ah… rz-rx-rearrange the furniture?” Vox asked idly.

Alastor turned to Valentino first. “You can leave your fur in the closet, if you like,” he offered. His gaze lingered for a moment, taking in the pimp’s loud-patterned suit. After an appraising flick of his eyes, he addressed Vox. “Mm, perhaps I did,” he replied vaguely, striding past Vox with his usual stiff-backed poise.

“It smells fucking delicious,” Valentino breathed and took a deep breath.

Vox shot him a look.

Valentino followed after Alastor, choosing to keep his fur on for the time being. As he passed Vox, he grabbed the other Overlord by the shoulder with a squeeze. “Smells like meat n’ spices,” he told Vox quietly.

The media Overlord fell in step with Valentino automatically and softened under his touch and the quiet tone of Valentino’s husky voice.

“Kinda tangy. N’... Somethin’ kinda fishy and sweet…”

Vox smirked and looked at Valentino dubiously. “You’re terrible at this.”

“Well, don’t give me that fuckin’ look, then,” Valentino popped back. “All hurt n’ shit just ‘cause _I_ can smell it…”

“Shut up,” Vox laughed. “You trx-trz-tried.” He gave Valentino’s hand on his shoulder a pat.

Valentino snapped his hand from under Vox’s and was about to bite back, but Alastor interrupted.

“You are right on the money, Valentino.” He swayed as he led the way through a doorway and into the kitchen. “I couldn’t bear to limit the offerings to just _one_ dish,” he crooned as he swept back toward his stove.

Vox couldn’t smell anything, but he was buffeted by the thick heat in the air as he entered the kitchen. His systems picked up the change of humidity and temperature, but he could very nearly _feel_ it permeate his clothes. It came as no surprise, given every available burner had some cooking vessel atop it.

Valentino, on the other hand, took a deep breath. “Holy _shit,_ Al, you really aren’t fuckin’ around,” he said with a wide grin.

“Indeed,” Alastor said with a pleased grin. “You _did_ boast your appetite.”

“Val’s the oz-ox-only demon I know that rz-rx-rivals your appetite,” Vox said as he followed Alastor to the stove. The radio demon seemed utterly at ease, even as he traded this spoon for that, stirring one pot, lifting a lid to check another, adjusting the flame with a delicate flicker of his fingers.

“Almost eat on smells alone in here,” Valentino mused as he sidled in on the other side.

“Consider the aroma merely the first course.” Alastor smiled at Valentino. “That unctuous, rich smell?” Valentino leaned in over Alastor’s shoulder with interest as the radio demon tipped his attention to Vox on his other side. “Yes, that almost coats the tongue,” he went on with pleasure as he lifted the heavy lid from a well-loved pot to reveal a small but pungent amount of a glistening broth. “Stock used to braise the meat for the _boudin._ ”

Vox was lured in by the way Alastor’s clever tongue caressed the words. 

“You can almost feel it in the air,” Alastor said lightly, his head toward Vox, unsurprised to find him leaning close.

“Greasy,” Vox commented, rubbing his fingers together in the steamy air clouding up from the stove.

“Rendered fat,” Alastor agreed. “Gives the air a most… _carnal_ smell.”

Vox was pinned under that scarlet gaze, by that tone that scraped through his system just-so. Alastor had the most _visceral_ way of describing things.

“The vegetables cut through that,” he went on in that nigh-musical radio voice. “A mirepoix of onions, carrots, celery--”

“Deer food,” Vox cut in with a grin, quick to quip after being briefly arrested.

“-- _Root vegetables,_ ” Alastor fixed Vox with a sharp, almost _warning_ look, “that lend an earthy quality to a round out an otherwise rich stock.”

“He’s gonna turn you into deer food if you don’t behave,” Valentino said idly as he finished his visual perusal of the contents of the pots and turned on his heel to take in the rest of the kitchen.

Alastor laughed, light and musical. “I’m afraid Vox is quite the acquired taste. Of both flavor and company.”

Vox grinned and tucked his hands in his pockets, straightening to lean against the counter near the stove. “Go on, sz-sx-sweetheart. You were saying?”

Alastor had learned to forgive that ever-quipping mouth. Or at the very least, tolerate it. Truth be told, it had been the banter that had brokered the increased _ease_ of company between them. Given a chance, Vox could be just as charming as he was irritating.

“Now to add the liver,” Alastor said, putting the heavy lid aside. Vox took a step back as Alastor moved with such _presence_ through the space toward his refrigerator. As with all things in the cozy kitchen, this appliance looked verifiably antique. He retrieved a paper package and began to unwrap it as he strode back into place.

“Sinner?” Vox asked as Alastor revealed the sizeable liver.

Alastor turned the raw liver out into his hand with a razor grin, eyes heavy lidded. “No. Not tonight, darling,” he said, though he dipped his head to inhale the faint coppery aroma with closed eyes. “Merely pork,” he said with a content smile.

“Shoulda brought Sinner if ya wanted Sinner, Vox.” Valentino said and set down the bottle of wine he had been carrying on the butcher block in the center of the kitchen. “Where’s your corkscrew?”

“Ah, you brought wine,” Alastor said warmly. He lowered the liver into the fragrant stock, then positioned it with a spoon and replaced the lid. He wiped his hands on his apron as he turned to fetch the corkscrew.

Vox had never seen Alastor quite so… hospitable. Then again, he’d never seen Alastor in the kitchen. The deer moved light on his feet, easily turning to just the right drawer to retrieve a simple corkscrew with a bone handle. With that handed over, he twirled again to fetch glasses.

“Would you like a glass?” Alastor offered Vox.

Vox smiled at the offer, but it was glitched short as Valentino shot back, “Don’t waste a glass on him. He wasn’t invited.” Valentino met Vox’s flatline expression with a devilish smirk.

The glasses rang as Alastor threaded them by the base between his fingers. “But he’s here now,” Alastor replied and caught the smile blooming back on his screen with a flicker of his gaze. “You know how he sulks when he’s ignored.” He took down a third glass and placed it on the butcher block with a restrained smile.

“I can lz-lx-leave if you two would rather be alone,” Vox said, whipping back to sullen, crossing his arms.

“Oh, there he goes,” Alastor tutted as he arranged the other two glasses for Valentino. He turned to Vox with an amused smile. “I knew to expect you,” he said, taking Vox by the arm and leaning close to adjust the pin at the apex of the broadcast detail upon his front. “Otherwise, the food would already be on the table.”

Vox narrowed his eyes at Alastor. The proximity had softened the stiffness of his shoulders, but he was still dubious that Alastor wasn’t just drawing this out.

“Perhaps I was mistaken…” Alastor smiled at Vox.

“About whz-whx-what?” Vox muttered.

“I thought you would enjoy watching me cook. A little… behind the scenes content, as it were?” Alastor lifted his chin, one dark brow raising.

Vox bristled slightly, suddenly very aware of the low-level frequency coming from the radio demon. It wasn’t the harsh channel feedback that had heralded the clash of old tech and new over the years of their rivalry. No, this crept up slowly, brushed against his own electric field like a caress, excited his current in ways he could not describe.

“Oh.”

Alastor’s smile changed, dark and soft as twilight.

“Gonna show us how the sausage is made?” Valentino asked, turning to the pair with wine glasses three.

Alastor’s eyes lit up as they flicked to Valentino. “Exactly so!” He laughed and released Vox’s arm to take his glass from Valentino. “So you _do_ know _boudin,_ ” he said cheerfully.

Valentino grinned and raised his glass to Alastor with a curious quirk of his brow. “Lucky guess.”

“That phrase always struck me as odd,” Alastor said as Vox took his glass in turn and the three met with a polite clink. Just as soon as their glasses parted, he swept between the overlords, inevitably drawing their attention as he returned to command the stove. “As I am a _firm_ believer in knowing where one’s food comes from. The effort and art from husbandry to plate.”

Vox shivered and shot a look at Valentino. Valentino mouthed at him, ‘ _husbandry?_ ’ Vox gave a slightly panicked shrug.

“The phrase implies there is something sinister in the process from raw material to final product; some _ugliness._ ” Alastor put his glass aside for a moment and took up lid and spoon once more, wafting the air with the potent scent of liver. “The only ugly thing to be found is the reticence to accept that there is _brutality_ necessary to produce sustenance.” With a snap, a bowl suddenly fell from the shadowy ether into Alastor’s waiting hands. With a deft, graceful motion and little more than a blunt spoon, Alastor moved the liver from pot to bowl and turned to face his rapt audience.

“If one cannot stomach the slaughter, one should not feast on the spoils,” he said brightly.

“And if one enjoys the slaughter, so much the better,” Valentino mused, caught up in Alastor’s presence, the natural performance of his rhetoric.

Alastor chuckled as he strode toward the next mark on the ‘stage’ of his little show for his guests--the far end of the butcher block. “For the cook, and for the meal,” he agreed. At the edge of the butcher block a medieval-looking device was bolted in place.

Vox was transfixed. He had never had an opportunity to watch Alastor at a craft such as this. It truly was never before seen content--never in all his years had his surveillance cameras been able to penetrate Alastor’s manor to witness how he spent his idle hours alone. Even the smile upon Alastor’s face was rare and exotic; a kind of industrious serenity drifting upon the ease of muscle memory.

And--Alastor had arranged this with him in mind. The softness of his self-satisfied smile as he moved for a better view went unnoticed. (Or so he thought. He should have known better than to think either of these perceptive assholes would miss that sweet-as-cake look broadcast on his screen.)

Alastor’s dark claws delved into the bowl, mixing, tearing, until all the contents had been rent into rough chunks. 

“Really knows how to handle his meat,” Valentino teased, nudging Vox.

The aside did not go unnoticed by Alastor, but he merely worked on, smiling. With a little radio-tune under his breath, he began to feed the meat into what very well could have been a torture device. With the crank of a large, heavy handle, the rough torn pieces were masticated through the machine into a uniform grind.

“Kz-kx-keep makin’ jokes, and he’ll handle _your_ meat like that,” Vox shot back with a grin.

“Only if I’m lucky.” Valentino grinned back.

“Valentino, you should have told me you had such vorarephilic tendencies. I could have arranged for a different sort of meal entirely,” Alastor said casually as he fed more of the bloody mess of meat through the grinder.

The chillingly calm tone of Alastor’s voice was nothing short of thrilling under such hospitable circumstances. “Ha! Now there’s a dinner maybe even Vox could enjoy…” Valentino swirled his wine in his glass and brought it toward his lips. “How about it, Vox? Ever considered letting Alastor have a little nibble?”

Vox laughed it off a bit too eagerly. “Dz-dx-don’t go giving him ideas.”

Alastor’s gaze fixed on Vox for a moment, then drifted up to Valentino. “As I said. An acquired taste,” he repeated, grin curling. With the last of the meat ground, Alastor cleaned the front plate of the grinder with a swipe of his finger. 

“Oh, but a taste you _have_ acquired?” Valentino asked with interest, leaning forward to rest his hip against the butcher block.

Alastor chuckled as he summoned the rest of his ingredients with a careless flick of his wrist. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he admonished Valentino with a lift of his brow as he tipped a bowl of this and a bowl of that into the meat.

“Come on… We’re all _friends_ here, aren’t we?” Valentino insisted with a wave of his wine glass and an arm wrapped around Vox’s waist, dragging him close. “You _are_ a whole snack, baby,” he said to Vox fondly, “but you didn’t tell me you let Alastor make a meal outta you…”

“Whz-whx-what did you think I mz-mx-meant when I said ‘Alastor had _mz-mx-me_ for dinner’?” Vox teased.

“Don’t tell such tall tales, darling,” Alastor crooned. “I’ve never had more than a taste,” he insisted as he lifted a messy finger from the mixture to his mouth and similarly gave it a taste.

Valentino felt a curious spark--an allure he could not quite put his finger on--as he witnessed Alastor perform a traditionally erotic move with no eroticism at all. At least not intentionally. 

Alastor was not abjectly sensual, nor seductive in the expected way. But he could appreciate what Vox found so attractive in him. Without even trying, Alastor had this _pull_ about him, captivating and intriguing. His very aura screamed _run away while you still can_ , but Valentino had always been drawn _toward_ forces so dark and dangerous.

“Hz-hx-how is it?” Vox asked, somehow just accepting this move as a matter of course.

“Missing the most important ingredient,” Alastor replied as he summoned the final touch: a jar of some dark red liquid.

“Blood?” Valentino asked, his relaxed posture slowly straightening as the smell hit him. It wasn’t as fragrant as freshly spilled blood, but a strong enough coppery tang to set his antenna aquiver.

“It wouldn’t be _boudin rouge_ without it,” Alastor said as he tipped the jar, spilling the thick liquid over the contents of the bowl. The radio demon reveled in his captive audience as he turned the almost-innocuous mixture of meat, vegetables, and rice a most sinister scarlet. His dark fingers, covered in a sheen of viscera, flicked once more to summon one last item needed for the preparation--a gossamer casing to seal his concoction into its final shape.

“How does he do it?” Valentino muttered to Vox with a lop-sided grin.

Vox’s screen was glued to watching Alastor’s deft fingers at work. Black fingers worked a long sleeve of casing onto the antique machine, staining the thin membrane with his bloody touch, delicate and precise.

“Dz-dx-do what?” Vox muttered back, distracted.

Valentino watched Vox watch Alastor, amused. Few things could command Vox’s focus so utterly. He took a sip of his wine, then bent closer to Vox. “Make somethin’ simple as grinding meat look _so sexy_?”

“Cooking is, in its very essence, a _sensual_ experience,” Alastor interjected. With the mixture fed back into the hopper, Alastor began to turn the crank and work it through the machine.

Vox’s system hummed to a resounding _ping_ as Alastor proceeded. Both overlords were transfixed as the sausage began to take form, filling and sliding right through Alastor’s practiced grip.

The Radio Demon smiled as he worked his hand along the growing sausage shape, squeezing and stroking the unmistakably suggestive form. “Food _arouses_ all of the senses,” he went on, adjusting his grip with a squeeze, modifying his speed with the crank. “Smell and taste are only the beginning. What a _lacking_ experience without the texture on the tongue, the _weight_ of something rich in the mouth, the _spill_ of the juices from a succulent morsel,” he waxed with quiet passion.

“Not bad to look at, either,” Valentino said, feeling the most unexpected kind of arousal from watching Alastor fondle sausage out of a medieval-looking machine.

“Yes, and the visual aspect. Food only becomes a _meal_ once presentation is taken into account. I’m glad you think so,” Alastor said pleasantly. “What about you, darling?” he plied Vox, all too aware of the effect this little performance might have. He did so love to tease Vox. “Are you enjoying the show?”

Vox nearly spilled his prop of a wine glass as he jerked his attention from Alastor’s hand to his face. “Fx-fz--fine.”

Alastor nearly pouted in theatric sympathy. “I was afraid you wouldn’t enjoy yourself very much.”

“Stick that in your mouth, and I’m sure he’ll be having a grand time,” Valentino quipped with a giddy grin.

Alastor narrowed his eyes at Valentino, but his lips took on an interesting quirk and he lifted a brow. “I’ll do you one better,” he said to Vox. “I’ll put it in my mouth,” he murmured with a flick of his eyes to Valentino, “and then… Shall I describe it to you?”

Vox was very grateful for the height of the butcher block to disguise the effect Alastor was having on him. Even now that their interactions had taken a turn for the more amiable, to see him _so_ at ease was a rarity. Pile on top of that his casual dress, the hospitable demeanor, the way he spoke with such passion about the project at hand, and the cherry on top: seeing him virtually giving a handjob to a giant sausage--Vox was in a heap of trouble.

And they hadn’t even made it to _dinner_ yet.

“Over dinner, of course,” Alastor amended with a chuckle. He wound the crank a few last rotations, then pinched the end of the tube and pulled a length of the casing free. “I wouldn’t want to satisfy your appetite _prematurely_.” With a deft twirl of his fingers, Alastor knotted the end of the casing.

“You dz-dx-do so have, ah…. A wz-wx-way with words,” Vox managed as his sharp claws scraped against the grain of the wood butcher block.

Alastor smoothed his palms over and over the length of sausage, ensuring its girth was even throughout. Then, with a firm _twist_ \--that nearly sent both Vox and Valentino bent double--he shaped the length into links.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m _starved,_ ” Alastor said cheerily as he went on twisting away whatever fantasies his dinner companions had floating about in their heads.


	2. Second Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the smut, folks.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, Vox?” Valentino asked, all but pouring himself toward the other Overlord on the couch, one of those long arms snaking around his shoulders.

“Nx-nz-not as much as you did, bz-bx-but when is that ever the case?” Vox replied as he relaxed under that familiar arm.

“Ohh, don’t give me that, baby,” Valentino purred with a smirk. He used one of his other hands to loosen the tie at his own throat, peeling the first two buttons undone comfortably. “The look on your face…” Valentino tipped his head toward Vox, that knowing grin creeping on his lips.

“I dz-dx-don’t know _what_ you’re talking about,” Vox assured him, though his own secretive grin was far from innocent.

Valentino leaned ever closer to plant a hand on the far side of Vox, his other hand landing right between the TV demon’s legs, more than close enough to make Vox stiffen slightly. “I had no idea you and Alastor were into dirty talk like _that._ ”

Vox’s eyes narrowed as Valentino teased him. “... He’s got a wz-wx-way with words, what can I sz-sx-say?”

Valentino moved in that usual impatient, demanding way of his, giving Vox no choice but to tilt his screen and offer his neck to that questing mouth. “He’s such a tease… Getting you all riled up like that.”

Vox melted into the couch as Valentino’s words traveled over his neck and a firm palm slid sensuously over his inseam. “Whz-whx-who’s being the tease nz-nx-now?” Vox muttered.

“I’m not teasing, baby,” Valentino promised, palming Vox through his trousers. He was rewarded by a low buzz- _pop_ from Vox’s speakers that accompanied the stir in his trousers.

“I dz-dx-don’t know how our hz-hx-host is gonna feel about that…” Vox rumbled, though he was far from discouraging Valentino as that tongue of his wrote sinful promises on his neck.

As if on cue, Alastor strode through the threshold. He paused for a moment, stiffened with a twitch of his ears.

Valentino felt Vox tense under his ministrations and he slowly drew back, turning to fix heavy-lidded eyes on the frozen figure Vox was staring at, tongue passing over his lips.

“Far be it for me to get in the middle of a lovers’ tryst…”

“Oh, be my guest,” Valentino said easily.

Alastor paused for a moment. “What I mean to say is, don’t let me interrupt…”

“You’re not interrupting.” Valentino smiled and squeezed a surprised groan out of Vox.

Yet another shade of scarlet joined Alastor’s visage. He chuckled with a little shake of his head. “You’ll have to excuse my manners. I’m not used to entertaining such… company.”

“First time for everything.”

Alastor considered the strange tableau upon his couch: his adversary-turned-companion looking more… dare he say _vulnerable_ than he had ever seen him--a look he savored in Vox--and Vox’s partner, his _sexual_ partner, casually draped about him, stimulating him just as nonchalantly as one might pet a cat. It was hardly the pornographic display Alastor might have imagined between these two. (If he had ever imagined it. Which he had not.)

“... Indeed.” Alastor continued into the room with a curious smile on his lips. “Can I offer you a glass of bourbon, Valentino? I’m afraid I’m not much for dessert, but…” Alastor chuckled to himself. “It seems you have that sorted, yourself.”

Valentino laughed in return and grinned at Vox. The poor demon looked like he was about to short circuit between just how easily his partners were pulling him in opposing directions--Alastor with his usual composure, Valentino with his usual hunger. “Pour me a glass, Bambi.”

An amused hiss of feedback-static fizzled from the radio demon, his motion before the liquor cabinet coming to a halt. Vox expected a snarl, that lip-curl he both loved and feared from Alastor, but instead the deer laughed. “ _Bambi,_ ” Alastor chuckled as he resumed his fluid motion gathering bottle and glasses. “Is that how you see me, Valentino?”

“It suits you,” Valentino insisted, eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Oh? How so?” Alastor’s light tone was punctuated by the stately gurgle of bourbon into one glass, and then another.

“Too curious for your own good.” Valentino purred, raising an interested brow at Vox as he felt that arousal rising undeterred. It came as no surprise that Vox would be _more_ turned on, not less, by Alastor’s presence.

Alastor hummed thoughtfully as he turned with glasses in hand. He brought one to Valentino, and the pimp took it with one of his free hands, palm still working casually over the increasing tent in Vox’s trousers.

“Curiosity is the salve for boredom.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Valentino commended, raising his glass.

Alastor smirked and clinked his glass with Valentino’s.

“I thz-thx-thought you found this kind of thing… dz-dx-distasteful,” Vox said with a critical grin at Alastor, forcing himself into a posture of comfortable repose, _control_ , despite how Valentino’s expert hand was making his system buzz.

“Oh, I do,” Alastor said easily as he shifted to seat himself in a nearby armchair, legs crossing neatly. “But…” He ran his finger along the rim of his glass. “Well, it’s _you._ ”

A low buzz of static rose from Vox’s speakers as his display shimmered with noise, expression frozen.

Valentino laughed, “Oh, he liked that.” He gave Vox a generous squeeze and relished in how the TV demon squirmed.

Alastor chuckled. “I will admit, you _arouse_ a certain curiosity in me, Vox…”

Those low-lidded eyes were undoing Vox just as much as the fingers easing his zipper down.

“I have no interest in your pornographic picture shows,” Alastor sighed and brought his glass toward his lips. “To each their own… _artform,_ ” he deferred to Valentino with a tip of his glass, though he couldn’t wipe the dubious quirk of his brow. “But when the object of desire is _you,_ Vox. Well. That’s certainly more entertaining.” He took a long drink of his glass. The bourbon burned down his spice-spiked throat wonderfully, settling warm on fine food and good wine.

“You enjoy having _food_ described to you…” Valentino slipped his fingers past Vox’s fly, stroking along his shaft. “Why don’t you feed Al’s curiosity and describe what I’m doing to you?”

Vox let out a sigh as Valentino’s fingers touched him just-so, his heel dragging along the carpet. “I’m sz-sx-sure Alastor doesn’t want to hear sz-sx-something that vulgar.”

“Oh, but I do,” Alastor said brightly. “Terribly curious.” He sipped innocently at his drink.

Vox looked incredulously at Alastor. Valentino gripped his cock and drew a loud groan out of him before he could accuse Alastor of fucking with him.

“What are ya, fuckin’ shy?” Valentino sneered, leaning into Vox’s neck, close enough for him to feel a whisper of fangs.

“Satan, you two are the fx-fz-fuckin’ worst,” Vox growled and was met by a chorus of shared dark laughter that made him shudder.

Valentino drew Vox’s cock from his trousers and gave it a long, firm stroke. The TV demon arched, thighs tensing as a low groan hissed from his speakers. “Aww, you’re never this shy with _me,_ Vox…”

“Don’t hold back on my account.”

Vox caught Alastor staring at him with such intensity, he had to swallow a lump in his throat that made Valentino chuckle hotly against his skin. The pimp toyed with the head of his cock and he grabbed at Valentino’s thigh, raking his claws over the zebra print of his trousers.

“Here I was hoping you’d share the _authentic_ experience.” Alastor tipped his head to the side, resting his cheek upon his knuckles as if observing for some academic purpose. “Seeing as I’m so _woefully_ ignorant.”

Vox loved nothing so much as being the center of attention. And here he was, the very object of both his companions’ undivided attention. His tense apprehension melted away under that rare gaze from Alastor. It held the kind of hunger usually reserved for a hunt, that of a predator after prey. It was a look that both terrified and thrilled him.

Vox tipped his screen toward Valentino and was met with a different kind of hunger. Without a moment’s hesitation, Valentino kissed his screen. Vox met the gesture with a smirk and a snort and lifted a hand to run his fingers along Valentino’s sharp jaw, sliding his thumb along those lips he could only imagine kissing.

Valentino pressed his lips against Vox’s thumb as he squeezed his cock to elicit another low groan. He snaked a long leg over Vox’s thighs, and the TV demon’s hand met it, drawing the tall moth into his lap. Valentino let out a low moan of satisfaction as his groin met Vox’s.

Valentino bowed his long torso to kiss along Vox’s neck as he pulled his tie free, laving each inch of revealed skin with a kiss of intent, soft devouring lips and flickers of that sensuous tongue.

“Amazed yz-yx-you’re not busting out of thz-thx-these,” Vox muttered as he tugged at Valentino’s strained fly. 

Valentino let out a sigh of relief as Vox freed his cock from the confines. “Y’d think they’d be roomier,” he husked, shifting slightly on Vox’s lap. “Inseam’s strangling my balls.”

Vox laughed and grabbed Valentino’s ass, angling him so he could free all the imprisoned flesh out of the confines. “Better?” he asked, soothing Valentino’s sack with a generous grind of his palm.

Valentino hummed and rocked into that hand. “Mm… gettin’ there,” he said with an expectant lilt to his voice. He slid two of his hands down Vox’s chest, squeezing through his vest. “So many fucking layers,” he complained and used his other hands to start wrestling off Vox’s sweater. “If there’s one fucking thing I hate about suits…”

“I thought you lz-lx-liked how I looked in a suit,” Vox teased him.

“Do you normally make so much small talk during these intimate moments?”

Vox and Valentino both paused for a moment and glanced over at their audience of one.

Alastor was seated quite composed in his chair, legs crossed, tapping a finger idly on his knee.

“Not what you expected?” Valentino asked with a grin. He rocked his hips against Vox’s idly, drawing a groan out of the Overlord. “Bit more a’ that?”

Vox grinned sharply at Valentino and gave his cock a retaliatory squeeze, hard.

Valentino’s grin spread wide at the stimulation and he rocked his hips against Vox’s hand, turning his attention back to him. “What? You’re too easy, Vox,” he muttered to him.

“I was under the impression there would be a bit more… hm. _Licentious_ dialog.”

Valentino’s brow screwed up in the exact expression of, _the fuck is he talking about?_

Vox responded, “He means dz-dx-dirty talk.”

Valentino glanced over at Alastor with a wide grin. “Oh, you want me to talk dirty?”

“ _Want_ is a strong word,” Alastor mused and took a sip of his drink.

“Then what _do_ you wz-wx-want, Alastor?”

Alastor’s grin widened a few degrees. Rankling Vox never failed to get a rise out of him. “Oh, I just want a front row seat for the show. Seeing what it is that you two _do_ together.”

“Front row seat, huh?” Valentino asked, quick on the tail of Alastor’s comment.

Alastor peered over at Valentino.

“Come on down,” Valentino purred.

Alastor considered the request, then his glass. He finished the rest of his bourbon and placed the glass lightly on the table by his arm. He stood and strode over to the couch. From his vantage point in the sitting chair, there hadn’t been much to look at. Just two men wriggling about on his couch. He peered in, then glanced at the vacant seat on the couch.

“Nah… Come on,” Valentino insisted.

“You want me to partake?” Alastor asked, amused.

“If you want,” Valentino replied easily.

Alastor chuckled and glanced at Vox. His screen appeared to be malfunctioning, frozen in a sort of shocked look. Slack-jawed one might call it, if he had a jaw. Alastor’s amusement twisted dark and dangerous.

“I suppose this would be the front row seat?” Alastor asked, gesturing to the space between them with a prim wave of his finger.

Valentino eyed Alastor with a sinister smile. “Audience participation is encouraged.”

Alastor’s form melted into shadow and with an eerily cold breeze, he appeared straddled upon Vox’s lap, well above the bare cocks standing proud. Ah, yes. He could see _quite_ well from here. He wouldn’t miss a moment of Vox’s expressions, nor would he need to witness all the more lascivious acts taking place.

Vox sat stiffly as he suddenly found Alastor in his lap. He could feel the curve of the deer’s ass oh-so close to his cock, but not quite touching it, the weight of that lithe but strong frame. He let out a sharp breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“You don’t mind, do you, _darling?_ ” Alastor asked as his hands moved to Vox’s rumpled collar, idly tugging at it.

Valentino was not disappointed with the view. Alastor’s slender frame was arched most attractive above their cocks, and he was awarded a forbidden front seat view of his own: that tight little rear and tufted tail.

There was a strange air about Alastor that screamed _do not touch._ It was written like bold warnings in the sleek composure of his posture, the measured angle of his lean limbs. But Valentino had never been one to deny himself, even when the warning signs were clearly there.

He dared to trail his fingers along Alastor’s thigh. The danger was thrilling.

To Vox’s surprise, Alastor was unmoved by Valentino’s touch. He laid a curious hand on Alastor’s opposite thigh and found it swiftly snatched off him, wrist wrenched in a way that both cut and encouraged his arousal.

“Valentino was courteous enough to invite me,” Alastor told him with a dangerous smile.

Valentino’s grin loomed over Alastor’s shoulder and he dared to slide his wide-spread fingers around Alastor’s waist, over his abdomen.

Alastor tipped his gaze toward the grinning pimp. “Now, if I’m going to distract you, I’ll sit elsewhere,” he said quietly.

“Not at all, Bambi. Not at all,” Valentino insisted with dark pleasure as he wrapped his arm around the radio demon’s waist.

“As you were,” Alastor told Vox and released his wrist.

Vox stared dumbfounded at the terrible twosome both mounted on his lap. He hardly noticed one of Valentino’s hands moving, dipping behind Alastor, until he felt that familiar grip on his cock again. He jerked and bit back a moan.

Alastor watched with rapt attention, drinking in the expression broadcast on Vox’s face. He could feel Valentino’s hand moving behind him, up and down. The sensation was _visceral,_ even though it did not quite touch him. He could feel Vox’s current, that electrical pulse just beneath his flesh, thrumming in a way he had scarcely felt before.

Vox was lost in those red red eyes as Alastor just _watched_ him in this forbidden way. Their connection had never been sexual--well, not mutually. He did _desire_ Alastor, but he also respected his adversarial companion’s boundaries about touch, and certainly his aversion to _grosser_ things.

But it was _very difficult_ to separate his desire for Alastor as the radio demon slid his arms around his shoulders, much as they might have danced together, albeit there would not have been nearly so much going on below the waist. Valentino’s confident, familiar touch tormented him as he watched yet another one of Valentino’s hands slide over Alastor’s chest, dragging the fabric with the heat of the touch.

“ _Hz-hx-he’s_ allowed to touch and I’m not?” Vox asked with an imploring look.

Alastor smiled devilishly into the haze of static that marred Vox’s usual cocky visage. “ _You_ weren’t invited.”

“What am I, just a piece of furniture?”

“A very attractive piece of furniture,” Alastor quipped mercilessly. “You two were prepared to treat me as nothing more than a bit of window dressing to your spectacle.”

“I dx-dz-don’t see what that has to do with getting my hz-hx-hands on you at this stage.”

“Very well. I can leave you two to it if you can’t behave yourself.”

“No--”

“ _Do behave yourself,_ Vox,” Valentino said with far too much pleasure as he began to pull at Alastor’s bowtie.

“That goes for you, as well, Valentino. A proper guest knows when they ask too much of their host…”

“Oh? And have I asked too much?” Valentino asked coyly.

Alastor’s grin slowly turned toward Valentino, though his gaze lingered locked on Vox. “No,” he said brightly, as if he had abruptly changed course. “In fact, you’ve provided some _superb_ entertainment.” He tipped his chin up toward the pimp, eyes heavily lidded. “On with the show~”

Valentino lifted an interested brow and took the wordless invitation. He gave Vox’s cock an eager squeeze and he lowered his lips toward Alastor’s, giving his partner the side-eye as he did so.

Vox groaned and lifted his hips into that greedy hand, reaching past Alastor to give Valentino a squeeze. “Now that’s just cz-cx-cruel,” he moaned.

Valentino was pleasantly surprised to find the radio demon quite pliant against his lips, not the stiff inexperience he had expected. A thrill ran through him as he felt a hand brush along his jaw, dangerous claws turned into instruments of sensual touch along the base of his skull, deepening the kiss. He had come to enjoy Alastor’s company and cooking. He had scarcely imagined he might find himself so intimately entwined with the mysterious overlord. Perhaps that was part of what made Alastor so absolutely dangerous--one never knew just what to expect.

Vox watched Valentino’s long fingers tug deftly at Alastor’s bowtie, barely a whisper of silk and it was undone. Next came the top button of Alastor’s shirt, and Vox was _sure_ Alastor would protest. He was instead distracted by a rock of hips--Valentino’s, to bring his cock forward, the dastardly pimp cradling his cock to meet it.

Vox shot Valentino a look as he sizzled and repressed a groan--and found that not only was Val giving him a devious side-eye, but Alastor was too.

“You’re both bastards,” Vox groaned and jerked Valentino’s hips roughly forward, grinning with pleasure as he disturbed the lip-lock Alastor and Valentino were clearly more performing than enjoying. It had the added benefit of sandwiching his cock neatly between Valentino’s own and Alastor’s rear.

Alastor pushed back against Vox’s chest defiantly for a moment, heat flooding his cheeks unbidden. “Unhand me--” Alastor spat out instinctively.

“I’m not tz-tx-touching you, sweetheart,” Vox insisted innocently, his turn to wear the bastard grin. “Well, nz-nx-not with my _hands…_ ” He shifted his hips to grind his cock between Alastor and Valentino.

Alastor had never seen such a look on Vox’s screen. There was that signature cockiness, yes, but it was blended with such a heady shade of desire. Even with the top button of his collar undone, an almost unbearable heat rushed up his chest.

“I didn’t invite you bz-bx-because I didn’t think you had any inz-inx-interest…” Vox said quietly, slowly sitting up, guiding his hips more firmly against Alastor, a buzz of pleasure leaving his speakers as his cock grinded against Valentino’s. “But I should have knz-knx-known better…”

Alastor’s mouth went dry as Vox’s screen came so close. He could almost feel the heat of the screen glow on his cheeks. The stiff barrier of his arms had fallen at the slightest advance from Vox.

“You nz-nx-never miss a chance to fz-fx-fulfill your _curiosity._ ” Vox’s speaker tone grated against Alastor’s own frequencies at this proximity, at that low register. The tug of his grin was not lost on Alastor.

“What d’you say, Bambi?” Valentino asked, testing the waters with a grind of his own hips as his lips ghosted over Alastor’s bare neck.

“...” A breath laced in static scratched up Alastor’s throat. As it touched his lips, those fangs came on display in a wicked spreading grin. He titled his head, eyes heavy lidded on Vox as he ran one set of dangerous claws down his front, then he turned his gaze to Valentino, appraising him with a thoughtful brush of elegant fingers along his narrow jaw. “First time for everything,” he breathed lightly.

Valentino’s fangs glittered in response as he dipped close, kissing Alastor’s neck warmly. “That’s the spirit,” he rumbled and rocked his hips forward eagerly, listening to the wonderful chorus of Vox’s moan and Alastor’s intake of breath.

“Sz-sx-seeing as it’s your first time,” Vox breathed, watching Alastor’s heavy-lidded eyes with fascination, but a measure of restraint. “We’ll tz-tx-take things slow…”

Alastor chuckled, a sound of honey and charred wood, and those piercing red-within-red eyes locked on Vox. The media overlord was struck by that lowered quirk of Alastor’s brow. “Oh, don’t be mistaken, darling. It’s not my _first time._ ” He laughed, delighted by the absurdity. “Did you think you were the _only man_ I ever took an interest in?”

Vox felt a bolt run through him--sharp, vicious jealousy, but spiked with equal parts excitement as Alastor deftly unbuttoned his shirt.

Valentino mirrored the action down Alastor’s own front. “Well, well, well. Aren’t you just full of surprises, Bambi?” Alastor wasn’t the only one getting quite the showing from Vox. Valentino had scarcely seen such a conflict of emotions flicker across that screen. He did so love _surprising_ Vox, and what better way than to share their enemy-turned-amour?

Vox’s grin took on a dangerous glint of his own as his hands tightened on Valentino once more to crush their hips together once more against the lithe frame sandwiched between them. “Well then,” he hissed. “We’ll hz-hx-have to make sure it’s something you wz-wx-won’t soon forget.”

Alastor’s hands sizzled up Vox’s electrified chest as he was jerked forward, the current that intermixed with his own frequencies all the more intense with skin on skin contact. The sensation lit his nerves and his eyes flashed on that challenge of a grin. He found that combative nature always lurking in Vox thrilling--doubly so as his senses were flooded with Vox’s unique touch.

Valentino smirked at Vox’s performance. Oh, he wanted to make it something _Alastor_ would never forget? Valentino had plans of his own. All teasing about “who was invited and who wasn’t” aside, he saw this as a special occasion for Vox. An opportunity to try something new. They’d done damn near everything under the cursed Pentagram “sun”--but throw Alastor in the mix and… well, it was a whole new game.

The pimp peeled Alastor’s shirt open, long inky fingers tracing over scarred flesh. Those lean muscles were still coiled with composure, but Valentino was privy to something even Vox couldn’t pick up with all his systems. Alastor had a distinctive smell--clean, like some sort of vintage laundry soap, but it could not hide that scent beneath, of blood and the sweet-rot of decay--and now there was a heady overtone of musk that betrayed his arousal.

“We’ve only just started, Alastor,” Valentino purred as he ran his hands along Alastor’s suspenders, following the clasps over his waistband toward his groin. “Hm…” he hummed with interest, “Not even hard yet, but I can _smell_ how turned on you are…”

Alastor shivered against the broad frame of the pimp draped over him. Valentino defied expectations with his wandering touch, not the rough, demanding grip he had presumed would be his modus operandi.

“Vox’s got the magic touch,” Valentino whispered against Alastor’s neck. “Trust me.” With that, Valentino shifted from his precarious position on Vox’s thighs and slid down onto his knees. He brought Alastor’s suspenders off his shoulders as he went, pressing an encouraging kiss to the back of the deer’s neck.

Alastor straightened as Valentino slid fully behind him, though his head bowed from the kiss. Vox’s hands were dragged free from Valentino’s hips and found Alastor’s instead. He ran them experimentally down the taut lines of Alastor’s trousers and was pleased to feel a faint shiver in response to his electric touch.

Instead of diving right for the prize close at hand, Vox’s touch traveled up Alastor’s sides. His hands tightened around Alastor’s ribs with a sudden pulse of energy and a loud groan that made Alastor’s ears stand on end.

“Gz-gx-give me a little wz-wx-warning,” Vox groaned as he shivered.

Alastor heard a lewd wet ‘pop’ from behind him and he hardly dared to look.

“What did you think I was doin’?” came Valentino’s voice.

Alastor caught a flash of those glittering pupil-less eyes as Valentino licked his dusky lips with a long tongue before he returned to treating Vox’s cock. He could _feel_ Vox’s pleasure translated through the hum of his current in his fingers, his own breath caught by the intoxicating sensation.

Vox drew Alastor closer with hands almost reverent on his imperfect flesh. He found himself unable to quell the quiet moan that escaped him as Vox stroked his neck. It was then that he knew that Vox wasn’t just letting him feel that current, but focusing it on his nerves. Vox already seemed to know where to touch him, and Alastor was inexorably drawn closer.

He had seen Valentino kiss Vox’s screen, but that seemed like a paltry approximation of a kiss, lacking the sensation Alastor craved. He needed to feel flesh, that pulse against his lips. He dipped his lips toward Vox’s neck, rewarded with not just flesh, but that spark, a connection unlike any other, something that twined with the radio waves that permeated his being and shot through his darkness with electric power.

Vox dragged Alastor’s shirt down his back, groaning as Valentino swallowed him down. Valentino was a masterclass of sucking dick, but add that to Alastor pressed chest-to chest, straddled on his lap, and the guessing game of just what Valentino’s dastardly tongue was going to do down there, and Vox thought he was well on his way to short circuiting.

Valentino didn’t need his hands to keep Vox’s cock exactly where he wanted it, coiling his tongue around the eager weight pulsing against his mouth. He used his free hands to work Vox’s trousers down his hips, making quick work of exposing those dark-static thighs. The pimp relished the glitter of circuit excitement just beneath the surface that betrayed just how riled up his partner was.

The freshly-opened-packaged, artificial-organic scent of Vox’s excitement mixed with Alastor’s heady musk made for a unique cocktail from Valentino’s vantage point. As he worked his mouth along the underside of Vox’s cock and down to his sack, he ran his hands over the tight fabric of Alastor’s trousers and felt the deer tense and move against Vox in kind. Valentino was very pleased with the music coming from his expert ministrations of this orchestra, the reluctant, muffled moan, and the glitch-scratched groan.

Valentino grinned against Vox’s flesh as he gave the TV demon’s hips a strong pull further toward the edge of the couch. Alastor ended up practically on top of Vox, staring down into that lust-fuzzed screen. The radio demon was struck by just how _vulnerable_ Vox looked, pinned under him, waking a rare brand of hunger in him. He rocked his hips against him with a ravenous look _._

Vox arched under Alastor with a low groan as Valentino ran spit-slicked fingers even lower, shuddering as he rocked into the touch. “Shz-shx-shit,” he cursed with pleasure, claws digging into Alastor.

Alastor grinned. If Vox was _this_ undone so far, just how far could he unravel him? Valentino seemed to have similar thoughts as his hands groped at Alastor’s rear, thumbs sliding along the seam. The radio demon’s breath rattled with a vacuum-tube hum from his throat as he sat back with a leisurely rock of his hips to meet Valentino’s broad frame behind him once more.

Valentino slid a palm over Alastor’s crotch and grinned. “What I tell ya? Magic touch,” he murmured.

“Hmm… It seems you have quite the effect on him yourself,” Alastor mused.

Vox was pinned breathless under the devilish stare from both overlords. He had never felt so in danger _and_ so turned on. Valentino never failed to put on a performance in the bedroom that rivaled even his finest directorial work on the screen, but combine that intuition with the raw, animal sensuality of Alastor in this rare mood and Vox was sure he was done for.

Valentino made slow work of Alastor’s fly as he turned his lips toward the deer’s bare neck, his gaze never leaving Vox. His lips on Alastor’s skin did not inspire envy in Vox--much the opposite. Valentino could act as his proxy, visit Alastor’s flesh with a touch impossible for him. A moan juddered from his speakers as Valentino’s now fully-hard cock joined his own again, his claws raking down Alastor’s front, glittering with feedback-static against the radio demon’s intense, dark frequencies.

Alastor grabbed one of Vox’s hands and brought it to his mouth as Valentino’s long fingers wrapped around his arousal and drew it free from his trousers. He vented the stimulation of his intimate flesh by biting on Vox’s knuckles. The painful slice of fangs drew a hungry moan from Vox and he gripped at Alastor’s jaw with his thumb in eager retaliation, only for the radio demon’s mouth to suddenly turn pliant and invite his fingers into his mouth with a lewd tongue.

The excited current on Vox’s bloodied fingers traveled down Alastor’s tongue, right down his esophagus, raced through the streams and tributaries of nerves from the inside out. Alastor very nearly devoured those fingers with Valentino stroking fluidly along his rare arousal, intoxicating him further with his long tongue along his neck.

The radio demon who so eschewed physical touch found himself assailed by an overabundance of it. The taste of Vox’s blood heavy on his tongue, that current humming through his veins, and a sinister sweetness from Valentino, cloying and musky filling his keen senses, hands like silk on his heated flesh, the beast within Alastor craved _more,_ not less. With little more than a thought, he banished the last of his clothing keeping him from feeling more flesh on flesh.

“That’s a good trick,” Valentino chuckled against Alastor’s neck. The deer growled around Vox’s fingers as two more of Valentino’s hands slid over his bare thighs, but his mouth fell open as he felt the press of hips, that firm proof of arousal two-fold from both overlords.

Vox’s fingers slipped free from Alastor’s maw and moved to his hip, gripping tight as Valentino’s cock ground him firmly against Alastor’s rear. His other hand brushed past that tuft of strictly-off-limits fur. With a devilish grin, he raked his hand over it, a buzz-restrained groan caught in his throat as Alastor lunged toward him and claws dug into his shoulder.

Vox felt a flicker of delicious fear that Alastor might tear his throat out, but his grip on that mink-soft fur made Alastor’s hips tilt and lift, driving his cock between their abdomens and his rear right into his palm.

“Nervous?” Alastor hissed, wearing an utterly singular smile in Vox’s experience, bitter-dark like chocolate and sharp enough to slit his throat. Claws bit into his shoulder, the hum of frequency thick in the air.

“It _is_ his first time,” Valentino chuckled, relishing the sight of the all-powerful media overlord pinned and nigh paralyzed. The pimp grinned and slicked his palm, giving himself a cursory stroke as the fingers of another hand danced over Vox’s static-charged thigh. “Here… This’ll put you at ease, baby,” Valentino purred as he guided his cock against Vox’s entrance.

Vox gripped at Alastor’s hips as he arched toward that familiar pressure from Valentino. “Fxxxxuck,” Vox buzzed as a cascade of ecstatic rainbow static shimmered across his screen. His grin glittered, eyes closed as Valentino plunged inside him, taking his time, letting him groan at every inch.

The hum of Vox’s current vibrated through Alastor, sang to his very marrow from so much skin on skin contact, the pitch unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could virtually _feel_ through their analog-digital connection. It robbed him of breath, this secondhand sensation of Valentino’s penetration, a peculiar fullness, yet aching to be filled.

A sharp sigh of relief left Vox as Val hilted inside him. Alastor could hear his breath now, ragged and almost organic as it left his speakers. Two of Valentino’s hands slid over Alastor’s thighs, tracing up Vox’s sides, while the other two found their place on Alastor’s upturned rear.

“You feel that, Bambi?”

Alastor shivered, eyelids flickering as Valentino’s voice brushed so close in his ear. He turned slightly to meet Valentino’s own hazy, sated gaze.

Valentino gave a roll of his hips and was rewarded with a moan from Vox and an arching of Alastor’s back that brought the deer against his chest. “Hmm…” Valentino raised an interested brow as his grin dipped low. “You two are tuned to the same channel…”

Alastor hissed and bit his lip as he felt Valentino’s fingers trace down from his tail, right over his entrance. The heady feedback loop of pleasure was maddening, driving his hips unbidden to rut against the press of bodies. Another set of fingers, Vox’s unmistakable tingling touch, joined Valentino’s. His head hung in limp surrender as he felt a thousand things at once; hands on his flesh, fingers delving inside him, the secondhand fullness of his shared frequency with Vox, the constant barrage of familiar-yet-foreign current, all drenched in that oppressive _perfume_ of debauchery, embroidered with salt-sweat and copper-blood.

Both Valentino and Vox’s fingers were inside him, working in tandem to utterly unravel whatever was left of his composure. He had wanted to see Vox undone, yet he had underestimated the synchronicity of their channels and found himself undone.

“Alasxxxtor…”

Alastor saw Vox’s expression raw and soft. He was bereft of words, so he spoke what he could not say on Vox’s throat in hushed moans and wrote his desire in long, thin claw marks on his shadow-static flesh.

“That’s it, baby,” came Valentino’s hushed, warm tone and Alastor felt the circuit completing. A hand held his throat but did not restrict the cry that left him. As Vox pressed inside him, the feedback loop reached full saturation--an utter massacre of the senses.

Valentino was blessed with enough hands to hold them all together in this chaotic whirlwind of circuitry and shadow and flesh. One hand cradled Alastor’s throat while two anchored him to Vox, one at his hip, pinned under Alastor’s thigh, another wrapped around one of Vox’s own strong legs. The last was reserved for the edge of Vox’s screen, rooting their blissed gaze as they rode wave after wave of syncopated pleasure.

Vox hardly had to guide Alastor’s hips so much as hold on as the radio demon moved in perfect time with Valentino, sheathing his cock as his partner filled him. He felt more aware of his body than ever before; the heaving of his chest against Alastor’s, the squeeze of thighs against his hips, long fingers dragging him in, the sound of Valentino’s sweet moans contrasting with the ragged, feral sound of Alastor’s eager need against his throat. It wasn’t a circuit overload--he felt light-headed--he felt _headed_ at all, a rare, precious experience in his eternal damnation.

Vox knew he was done for when Valentino gave him that _look._ Chin streaked with cerise, tongue all but lolling from between glinting fangs, eyes narrowed in abject delight--a look made all the more dangerous as Valentino reigned Alastor back by his throat, both of his partners ruined in their unique brand of ecstasy. Alastor wore a look so drunk, it took Vox completely by surprise as he led the attack; first with a threat of a grin, and then with a promise of claws on his throat.

Vox was almost certain this was what redemption felt like. Feeling filled and _ful_ filled, raw and torn apart and laid bare in the embrace of those who knew every inch of one’s skin, every fiber of one’s soul. Just when he thought the peak couldn’t go any higher, he felt Alastor tumble from the precipice with him. Vox wasn’t sure if he was seeing stars or if bulbs were actually exploding from fixtures in the room.

Valentino was peripherally aware of lightbulbs exploding in the vicinity, and more centrally aware of the shriek of feedback and tempest of channel-noise erupting from the pair of media-fused demons in his arms. But it wasn’t the reactive frequency noise that he felt in his bones--no, it was the moans of abject pleasure that resonated deep within him, fed by the fuel of his passion. The return on investment, Vox’s body trembling around him, Alastor taut and undone in his grasp, sent him soaring to his own hard-won completion.

And then: darkness. The elegant sitting room had been reduced to a cocoon of shadow and panting breath, of limbs and flesh distinguishable only by scar and sensory-current and silk-smoothness. Even Vox’s screen had dimmed low, shapes barely limned by its glow.

Valentino felt Alastor swallow against his palm, a claw-rasp touch almost like gratitude visited his arm as the deer’s rapid-beating heart began calm with the swell of his ribcage. With a dark-sweetened kiss to his shoulder, Valentino released him.

Vox’s unsteady breath hitched as Alastor’s sudden-soothing frequency laid against him; sharp contrast to the chaos that had overtaken them just moments ago. The radio demon graced a kiss to his raw throat, and Vox swore he heard music begin to play…

The darkness coalesced between Valentino and Vox, thick with that peat musk. It cleared as if by a draft, and Valentino heard the music, too. Noticed that there was a light in the room: a radio dial spilling golden light, a beacon in the warm, deep shadow--and that Alastor’s form was no longer between them.

A snap of fingers cut the air and a bright globe of candlelight bloomed. Brass chamberstick in hand, Alastor stood relaxed and remarkably poised. He was even dressed in a comfortable-looking red robe.

“It has been an… _illuminating_ evening, gentlemen.” Alastor laughed; not the harsh, performative sound, but soft and warm as the brassy tone of the radio playing. “Perhaps _illuminating_ is not the right word, given the state of my fixtures…”

“Oh, the night’s still young, Bambi,” Valentino purred as he extricated himself from Vox and finally gave his knees a rest. He let his jellied limbs fall to a seated heap against one of Vox’s still-spread thighs.

Vox groaned in protest at Valentino’s offer. “You are fz-fx-fucking insatiable,” he said as he dragged himself up to a seated position and steadied his screen with a hand. “At lz-lx-least let me take a breather,” he teased fondly as he leaned toward Valentino.

“I didn’t say anything about fucking. Why d’you always assume I’ve got sex on the brain?” Valentino shot back at Vox, though there was no fight in his words.

“‘Cause you uz-ux-usually do,” Vox muttered back and leaned in to meet Valentino’s peck to his screen.

“That’s profiling, that is…”

“It’s not my intention to be a poor host,” Alastor interjected pleasantly. “But I am quite, ah… _spent._ ”

Valentino couldn’t help but laugh. “Bet you are,” he purred as he hooked his elbows on Vox’s thigh. “Go freshen up,” he encouraged with a lazy wave of his fingers. “Then we’ll have that drink. I didn’t get a chance to enjoy my bourbon with you.”

Alastor was quiet for a beat.

“If yz-yx-you don’t mind,” Vox added. “Wz-wx-wind down a little,” he said with a satisfied sigh.

“Together,” Alastor said. It wasn’t quite a question. Almost a realization.

“Yeah, together,” Valentino said easily.

Vox’s screen brightened a few degrees as he smiled at Alastor.

Alastor felt that familiar-unusual fondness stir in his chest at Vox’s smile. It crawled a bit more vigorously against his ribcage as he felt Valentino’s smile upon him as well, barely picked out by the glint of his golden fang in the darkness.

“Hm. I don’t know that I’ve ever had such hospitable guests.” A mysterious, dark smile curled on Alastor’s lips in the candlelight glow.

“First time for everything,” Valentino reminded him.


End file.
